Would You?
by GataChica
Summary: After pasta night during ep. 3.1, both Sandra and Gerry start thinking about their feelings for each other.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Would You Say Yes?

A/N: Starts during 3.1. Sandra/Gerry

" _Yeah, well, I've asked so many women to marry me that it just popped out."_

" _You've never asked me," Sandra pointed out._

" _Would you say yes?" Gerry asked, a bit of a challenge in his voice._

" _No," she laughed._

" _There ya go then."_ He held onto his smile as he took a drink of wine, but something in his heart had fallen when she said no. Gerry quickly put the exchange out of his mind. He knew it was something he would have to come back to when his friends were gone, but for now, he wouldn't think about it.

Gerry lay in bed at three in the morning, unable to fall asleep. He kept thinking of Sandra and the pangs of regret he felt over the conversation at dinner. Why had he even asked if she would say yes? To begin with, he had never even considered marrying Sandra – hell, he hadn't considered a _relationship_ with her! Yeah, he flirted with her at work, mostly because she didn't like it. The rest of the time he considered her a ball-breaker; if asked, he would have expressed horror about the very idea of having a romantic relationship with her. Not because he didn't think the sex would be good – he was actually convinced that it would be mind blowing. However, he strongly believed that being married to her would be a constant struggle for control that he frankly wasn't up to facing. Not at his age.

The door buzzed, and Gerry sat up in bed. Should he answer it? When it buzzed a second and then a third time, he resignedly put on his dressing gown and went to the door.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised that it was Sandra, and she was clearly not sober. When she walked in, still dressed in her clothes from dinner, she was wobbling just a bit. "Hi, Gerry," she said with a little giggle.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough. Got some more wine?" Walking down the hall she stumbled, and he caught her in his arms, leading her into the sitting room and placing her carefully on the sofa.

"I don't think you need any more wine, Sandra." He sat down beside her, waiting. He knew what she was going to ask.

It didn't take long. "Why not, Gerry?"

"Why not what?" He wondered if she would come right out and admit what she wanted to know.

She gazed at him for several minutes. Her eyes grew moist. "You know what."

"I want you to say it, Sandra."

Several more minutes went by, and he actually saw a tear roll down her cheek. Finally, she whispered, "All right, damn you. Why _haven't_ you asked me to marry you?"

He took her hand. "We've never even been on a date, Sandra."

She jumped up, pulling her hand away from his, but she couldn't stand, and he caught her again as she fell back onto the sofa, landing half in his lap. "That's another thing, Gerry. Why haven't you ever asked me out?"

He kept holding her, telling himself he had to, or she would stand up again and hurt herself. "You're my guvnor. It wouldn't be right." He knew the minute he said it that it sounded lame coming from him.

"Wouldn't stop you if it were anyone else," she muttered. Then she pulled away from him, but at least she stayed sitting down. "Gerry, what do you have against me?"

His temper suddenly flared up. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? From the time we first met, you made it clear you didn't like me. I know you think I'm old-fashioned, chauvinistic, irresponsible, immature, and a complete tosser, but isn't there anything you _like_ about me?"

To his dismay, she began to cry. He knew it was the alcohol, but he still felt guilty.

"How can you say that, Gerry? It's true, sometimes I get mad at you, but if I didn't like you I would have kicked you off the team a long time ago. You're a fantastic detective, you're clever, funny, caring, an incredible cook, and amazingly sexy." She laughed through the tears. "In fact, sometimes I have trouble keeping my mind on work instead of thinking about what you would be like in bed."

This was news to Gerry, and he had a feeling it was not something Sandra would want him to know! If she remembered this tomorrow, she would probably regret it.

He tenderly wiped away her tears. "I feel the same way about you, Sandra. Everything except the cooking, of course." She laughed, this time without crying, and he felt a jolt of happiness. "Feel better now?"

"Yes." She leaned against him and he put an arm around her. It was a comfortable position, and he found himself not wanting her to go home.

"How did you get here?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she asked sleepily.

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're definitely not driving home. You can either take a taxi or you can stay here."

"Stay," she mumbled.

"All right. Do you want to sleep on the sofa or take my bed?"

"The sofa's fine," she said.

By the time her head hit the cushion, she was asleep. He carefully covered her with a blanket, then went back to bed. He wasn't sure how well he could sleep after her revelation, but to his surprise, he fell asleep quickly.

Sandra woke with a throbbing headache, wondering where she was. It took her a few minutes to work out that she was lying on Gerry's sofa. How did she get there? She remembered being at his place for pasta night. She remembered going home afterward and drinking way too much - at least one full bottle of wine, after all the wine she had at dinner. At some point she must have come back to his, but she didn't remember anything about it.

She felt grateful that she was at least sleeping on the sofa and not in the bed with Gerry; therefore, she probably she hadn't done anything regrettable whilst she was drunk.

She stood up carefully and went to the loo. While she was in there, Gerry's alarm went off, and when she came out, he was in the living room. "Oh, there you are," he said. "Fancy some breakfast?"

The very idea of food made her stomach turn. "No, thanks. I'd better go home and change."

"Well, if you must." He walked slowly towards her, intruding in her personal space, and she wondered what he was going to do. But she didn't move, she felt glued to the floor. She had to know.

He put his arms around her and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "See you at work, Sandra."

As he drove to work, Gerry was still wondering what – if anything – he should do about what he'd learned the night before. He didn't think Sandra remembered confessing her feelings. If she had, she would have reacted when he kissed her. Or more likely, she wouldn't have let him kiss her at all. She had warned him once, when they were undercover with the red diamond, and that was just a kiss on the cheek.

So why _did_ she let him kiss her this morning? It wasn't as if it were a full-on passionate snog, but still, it was unlike her. The whole thing intrigued him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. He had to explore this new concept. But how?

Ah, he had an idea – juvenile, admittedly, but potentially enlightening and definitely worth it. A secret admirer, that was the ticket. The first step was to think carefully about what he could do that might please her – gifts, treats, sweet words in a nice card, but not too sappy. Then he would find ways to give them to her without letting on that it was him. He would even tease her about them, making it look as though he knew nothing.

He laughed out loud as he pulled into the car park. This was going to be fun!

Sandra found herself eyeing Gerry speculatively as the day went on. She still worried that she might have said or done something to let him guess that she was attracted to him. But his behavior was so normal as to be monotonous, so she finally sighed with relief and stopped thinking about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 The Language of Flowers

A/N: Starts during 3.1. Sandra/Gerry

The following Tuesday Sandra turned the corner into her office and stopped suddenly. The room was filled with a delicious scent, and there were four pots of white gardenias placed on the desk and filing cabinets, while in the middle of the desk stood a single red rose in full bloom. Beside it was a small book labeled "The Language of Flowers."

Sandra glanced up through the blinds and saw the three men quickly looking away, pretending that they had not been watching her. She walked out into the office. "What do you lot know about this?" she demanded. "Who brought these flowers?"

"A florist," said Jack, with a straight face.

"Well, that's helpful, Jack. Which one? When?"

"I didn't notice the name," Brian answered, "but it was about half an hour ago."

Gerry suggested that she check with the reception desk to find out the name of the florist.

"Yeah, I'll do that." She re-entered the office but looked back at them suspiciously before she closed her door.

Sitting at the desk, she was torn between looking at the card and finding the meaning of the flowers. After a moment, she chose the latter. Picking up the book she noted that two thin red ribbons served as page-markers. The first one was the page for "G" and gardenia. 'You are lovely – secret love,' she read. The next ribbon marked "R." The meaning of a single red rose was "I love you."

Sandra glanced nervously at the florist's card in its little envelope. Should she look at it? Did she _want_ to know who it was? If there was someone who loved her in a romantic sense, she certainly wasn't aware of it. Who could it be?

She finally decided that she had to look.

 _To Sandra from your secret admirer_

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered in frustration. "I don't know anything more than I did before."

A tap at her door brought her back to the real world. "Come in," she called, a little more harshly than she intended.

Jack opened the door. "You ready to start on the case?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. Work would take her mind off the questions swirling in her head. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

When she walked out of the office, Gerry immediately asked, "So who's your gallant suitor?"

"None of your business," she snapped. "Now let's get on with it."

Gerry glanced at Brian, who looked over at Jack, standing at the white board. They had already decided they would sneak a peek at the card as soon as they had the chance.

"Fourteen years ago, there was a break-in and fire at the American School in London," Jack began. "The gymnasium burned, the music building was badly vandalized, and many of the instruments were stolen. Fortunately, most had serial numbers engraved on them, so they were recovered as soon as they appeared on the market. There were several suspects, mostly minors, but no one was ever arrested because there simply wasn't enough evidence."

"What's different now?" asked Gerry.

"A witness has come forward. He was seven years old at the time of the break-in, which occurred during the middle of the night."

"What the hell was he doing out at that time of the night?" asked Sandra.

"He'd left his violin at school and needed to practice over the weekend. So he sneaked out that night and walked there, where he saw the break-in. He didn't say anything before now because he was afraid of getting into trouble for sneaking out."

"So he's 21 now," Sandra mused. "All right, Brian, you go through the old case files, Jack, go to the school and find out if anyone is still there who was on staff fourteen years ago. Gerry, you're with me. We'll go see our little witness – what's his name?"

"Jerome Dunlap. Here's his information." Jack handed her a sheet of paper. As she read it, Gerry stood up to get his coat, and, with his back to Sandra gestured to Brian to go look at the florist's card. Brian nodded his understanding.

"Gerry, let's go."

"Yes, ma'am." Gerry bowed his head to hide the suspiciously wide grin on his face.

By the weekend, the gardenias were beginning to droop, so Sandra took them home and planted them in her back garden. She knew that they would make her smile every time she saw them. Sometimes she really needed those little beautiful things to keep up her spirits.

The next Tuesday, Sandra was again surprised to walk into her office and find it filled with flowers and their accompanying fragrance. She had thought the gardenias and the rose were a one-off, not the prelude to something longer-lasting.

This time the predominant flowers were cut tulips of a variety of different colors including white, red, yellow, orange-red, and apricot. They were arranged in vases with some sort of fern. Even the ribbon pagemarkers had been moved to the pages for tulips (love and passion) and maidenhair fern (secret bond of love). She was becoming more curious than ever, but the card said no more than the previous one:

 _To Sandra from your secret admirer_

A sudden fear sent chills down her spine. How did the person get access to her office? Why was the "secret admirer's" identity kept secret? What if this was a stalker? Did she need to ask for extra security?

"Jack, can I have a word?" she called.

He came into her office and she motioned for him to close the door. Then she showed him the cards for both flower deliveries, not realizing that he had already seen the first one. "What do you think, Jack? Should I be worried about this?"

He didn't respond for several minutes, but finally he asked, "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"None at all. I haven't even dated anyone in several months."

"What about Strickland? He certainly seems fond of you."

Sandra wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "Do you really think it might be him?"

"It's possible. Why don't you wait a little longer and see what happens? In the meantime, watch your back, and we'll watch it for you, of course. Just in case."

"Okay." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jack soon told his colleagues about the conversation, and Gerry had to work really hard to keep his dismay from showing. The idea that Sandra might be worried about a stalker had never crossed his mind, but he supposed it was logical given her profession. How many criminals had she put behind bars? How many were now back in the free world with grievances they had nursed whilst inside?

He had to find some way to relieve her anxiety without giving himself away.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 Dinner and a Show_

The following week, Sandra was wary each day when she entered the UCOS department and even more nervous when she came to her office door. Each day she saw nothing and released an anxious breath.

On Friday, she thought that again nothing was there, but she was wrong. After sitting at her desk, she spotted a small envelope under her computer monitor. Her heart pounded as she opened it. The envelope contained a voucher for dinner for two at her favorite Indian restaurant along with two tickets to the latest play showing in the West End. The note inside read, "Invite a friend and enjoy a wonderful night out. You deserve it."

Sandra was shocked. It didn't _sound_ like a stalker – at least, not any of the ones she'd come in contact with during her years on the force. It seemed that the person was benevolent towards her – willing to let her enjoy a night out with someone else. A person who might be focused more on Sandra's happiness rather than his own.

But who should she ask to go with her? She knew who she wanted to ask – Gerry. But what if he said no? He might refuse to go to her favorite Indian spot after all the complaints he'd made before. And she wasn't really sure how he felt about the theatre.

Oh, well, it couldn't hurt to ask. She went to the door of her office. "Gerry, you busy?"

He had clearly been telling a joke to the others, but he quickly said, "I'll finish it later." Reaching Sandra and wearing a look of total innocence, he asked, "Did I do something?"

She smiled. "No, at least, not as far as I know. Come on in." She closed the door and they both sat down. She handed him the little envelope.

"This your secret admirer again?" he teased.

"Yeah. Dinner at my favorite restaurant and then a show."

"Sounds nice."

"But I have to ask someone to go with me."

Understanding dawned on Gerry's face and he knew his face was turning red. Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen!

"So, I thought I'd ask you," she continued.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you're my friend, Gerry. But if you don't want to go, that's all right. I'll understand." The undercurrent in her voice belied her statement, but he didn't call her on it. Besides, he had no intention of refusing.

"Yeah, I'll go. When?"

"Tomorrow night, reservation at 7 pm. I'm driving, so I'll pick you up at 6:15."

He didn't even feel the need to complain about women drivers, he was just so surprised at the turn of events.

"You do know how to behave at the theatre, don't you Gerry?"

He felt annoyed, but then he looked up at her and she was wearing that soft, tender smile that he rarely got to see but when he did, he cherished it. "Yes, ma'am."

"In that case, I'll see you tomorrow night. Now, let's get to work."

The following evening Sandra arrived at exactly 6:15 and called his mobile. As it happened, he had been waiting at the door, so he was locking it behind him when he answered. "Hey," he said, waving.

She smiled and hung up the phone as he got in the car.

"You look wonderful," he said, his eyes traveling from her head to her feet and back again. She was not too dressed up, but more so than at work: a lace-trimmed blouse of purple silk with three-quarter sleeves and a plunging neckline paired with a black skirt of crushed silk slit halfway up one thigh. Her high heels lay on the seat behind her; she was driving in a pair of battered blue trainers.

"You don't look bad yourself," she acknowledged. "Nice tie," she added with a laugh. Unlike most of his ties, it was simply dark blue with light blue pinstripes, matching his shirt and suit.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, and though his voice was sarcastic, his eyes were smiling.

Sandra noticed that he didn't say even one word of complaint about the restaurant or not wanting her to order for him. This was not normal, so it threw her off stride as well. What was causing him to act so differently? Finally, when their gulab jamun with ice cream came, she decided to just ask.

"Gerry, what's wrong with you? You haven't given me your usual complaints tonight. Something on your mind?"

He stopped in the middle of dishing out his portion of the dessert and stared at her. "No," he answered lamely. "Nothing on my mind."

"That's good – I guess."

"Of course it is."

"You're not worried about anything?" she persisted.

"Are you?" he countered.

Exasperated, she told him, "Yeah, I'm worried about you. But if you promise me there's nothing wrong, I'll have to take your word for it."

"I promise."

"All right." She checked her watch. "Oi, we'd better go or we'll miss Act One." She waved to a waiter and asked to have their food wrapped up. Soon they were back in the car, the theatre being a good distance from the restaurant. They arrived just in time to find their seats.

The show was a comedy and Sandra found herself laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl. It wasn't until close to the end of Act Two that she realized Gerry was spending more time watching her than watching the play itself. This made her self-conscious, and when the curtain came down for a brief intermission, she said, "Gerry, don't you like the play?"

"Sure I do."

"Then why are you looking at me instead of the stage?"

He looked embarrassed. "Didn't know I was."

Sandra stood up quickly. "Going to the ladies."

When she came out, having waited in a long line, a voice among the crowd of men waiting for their dates called "Sandra!"

She turned around quickly. "Oh, hello." It was DAC Strickland, and she immediately wondered what the odds were that he would show up at a play where she and Gerry were together.

"How are you?" he asked, a little awkwardly. "Do you go to the theatre often?"

"Not in a long time," she said.

At that moment, a young woman with red hair, whom Sandra had seen in the ladies', walked up.

"Sandra, this is my cousin Heidi. Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman."

Heidi's eyes lit up. "Oh, it's you! Robert's always talking about you. I had no idea I'd get to meet you tonight." She turned towards her cousin. "Robert, do you think Sandra would like to meet us after the show?"

"Uh, possibly," he began. "What do you think, Sandra? We're going to the pub for drinks."

Sandra was thinking quickly. What would the DAC say about her being "out" with Gerry? She suddenly decided she didn't care, she and Gerry were just friends so how could he say anything?

"I'll need to ask Gerry," she said, "I drove, and he may need to go home."

Strickland's eyes were wide with surprise. "Right, well, um, just call me when it's over so we'll know whether to expect you. We'd better get back to our seats now."

"What kept you so long?" Gerry whispered just as the lights went down.

"Strickland."

"He called?"

"No, my mobile's off anyway. He's here with his cousin."

"Oh." He started to ask more questions, but she shushed him.

She had trouble concentrating for the rest of the show, since Strickland's coincidental appearance had started wheels turning in her head. She kept her eyes on the stage and didn't even notice whether Gerry was watching her again.

After the curtain calls were over, and they stood to leave, Gerry asked, "What was that about Strickland?"

"Oh, right. I saw him and his cousin when I went to the loo. They asked if we wanted to go to the pub with them, but I said I'd have to ask you."

Gerry laughed. "When have I ever turned down the chance to go to a pub, Sandra?"

"Never, probably. But I wasn't sure. All right, when we get out of here I'll call and tell him to expect us."

Sandra had actually hoped he would say no, but he was right, that would have been out of character. Still, something made her uneasy as they drove to the place Strickland had named. She couldn't figure out what it was, but as soon as they saw Robert and Heidi, Gerry said, "Oh, hello! This is getting better all the time!"

Then it hit her full force, and she really wished she'd gone home.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 After the Show_

Gerry didn't realize until they were halfway to his house that Sandra was hardly speaking to him; all she'd said since they left the pub was "seatbelt on" when they first got in the car and then "shut up" when he tried to start a conversation.

In fact, he eventually worked out that she hadn't spoken to him much at the pub either; instead, she had focused all her attention on Strickland. She had seemed unusually towards him, too.

"Sandra, why aren't you talking to me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Gerry, you're a detective," she said grimly, "Why don't you figure it out?"

"If I thought I could, I wouldn't've asked you, now would I? You haven't spoken to me since we got to the pub."

"I wonder why that might be," she snapped. "I'm surprised you even noticed," she added, "considering that you were busy chatting Heidi up the whole time."

"Now wait just a minute, you were getting awfully cozy with Strickland yourself," he retorted, "Why would I think you even wanted me to talk to you? You were practically in his lap, Sandra."

"How dare you say that, you tosser?" Sandra said, accelerating suddenly. "After the way you behaved! You know, Gerry, I'm really tired of seeing you run around after every attractive woman we come across. Especially tonight when this was supposed to be – I mean –" She stopped talking abruptly.

"Supposed to be what?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Gerry. Absolutely nothing."

Gerry wisely shut his mouth at that point, but it didn't stop him thinking. Could it be that Sandra was actually _jealous_? It certainly sounded that way. He hadn't been seriously flirting with Heidi, he was just doing what he always did. The Standing "moves" just came naturally to him anytime he was around... well, as Sandra had said, anytime he was around an attractive woman.

But this aspect of his personality had certainly picked a bloody awful time to pop out. If he told Sandra he was her secret admirer now, she probably wouldn't even believe him.

Then a terrible thought came to him. Did Sandra think it was Strickland? 'Oh, shit,' he thought. 'What do I do now?' The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that she _did_ think her boss was the one. The fact that Strickland happened to turn up at the play, coupled with the fact that she had been overly friendly to him – oh no, did Sandra have feelings for Strickland as well? 'Christ, no, please,' he thought.

They had almost reached his house.

"Sandra, we have to talk," Gerry said as she parked.

"All right, talk."

"Come inside. Please."

She turned towards him and, to his surprise, her face was suspiciously red with little wet trails running down her cheeks. As he watched, a tear fell off her chin and onto her blouse. "Can't we just talk here and get it over with?" she asked.

Gerry knew his only hope was to put himself at her mercy and beg for forgiveness. "Sandra, I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm a complete wanker. Call me every name you know, it would suit me. I don't care about Heidi, I'll probably never see her again. And I shouldn't have acted that way when I was with you. I hope that you -" He stopped to catch his breath.

"What are you on about, Gerry?" Sandra said, trying to surreptitiously wipe the tears from her face.

"I hope that you can forgive me. Please, come inside for a few minutes, alright?"

She looked away for a moment, then nodded. Once they were inside, he took her hand and led her to the sitting room where the whole thing had started several weeks before.

"Drink?" He asked automatically.

"I think I'd better not," she said. "I had plenty at the pub."

"Yeah, me too, actually."

"So what did you want to tell me, Gerry? Beside the fact that you are sorry and you're a total tosser."

"That's it, really."

"Oh. In that case, I guess I can go home." She stood and stepped away from the sofa, but he grasped her hand and she sat back down.

"Not yet. Actually, I do have more to say."

"Go ahead."

He took a deep breath, wondering if he was signing his own death warrant. "Do you think Strickland is your secret admirer?"

Sandra looked at him in surprise. "Maybe. Jack said he might be."

"Oh, really. Jack said that?" Gerry made a mental note to have a word with Jack.

"Yeah. I was asking him if he thought I had a stalker. The only possible person we could think of was Strickland."

"Do you want it to be him?'

"I don't think that's any of your business, Gerry," she replied irritably.

"Actually, it is – more than you think."

"How so?"

"Will you just answer the question?"

Sandra sighed. "All right, the answer is no."

"So you can't think of anyone that you would like it to be?"

"I didn't say that. I said I didn't know who it _could_ be."

"Then who do you want it to be?"

She hesitated for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking. Then without looking at him, she said, "You," and before he could react, she had picked up her bag and was out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5 A Good Start_

Sandra leaned against the brick wall of Gerry's building, trying to calm her rapid breathing. She couldn't believe what she had just done. First, why did she tell him the truth? Second, why was she acting like a teenager? She hated it when her emotions overcame her like this, especially when they threatened to affect her work.

She wasn't sure whether she wanted him to come after her or not. There was still a light in the sitting room window, so he hadn't gone to bed yet. What was he thinking?

She glimpsed him looking out the window and she knew he had seen her car still parked out in front. Would he come out to look for her?

Shortly after, she heard a door close and saw him walk over to her car, peering inside. When he didn't see her there, he turned around, obviously searching for her. She didn't think he could spot her in the shadow of the small alcove where she was standing.

His shoulders slumped, and he walked back to the door, shaking his head.

'This is silly, Sandra,' she told herself. 'Go back and face him. The worst he can do is say no.'

"Gerry?" she whispered, leaving her hiding place.

"Sandra," he said with relief. "I'm so glad you didn't go. Come back inside?"

She nodded and followed him back to the place she had fled so suddenly only a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry, Gerry," she began, "but I –" She was interrupted as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her, softly at first then with more passion as she opened her lips to him and they began to explore each other for the first time.

When they finally broke the kiss, she stared at him in shock. "Gerry – was it really you?"

He smiled, caressing her face as he brushed her hair behind her ears. "Absolutely, and I have the receipts to prove it."

Her mind went back to the beginning and the first flowers she had received, along with their meanings. "You were serious about the flowers? What they meant?"

Holding both her hands in his, he escorted her back to the sofa and they sat down together. "I've loved you for a long time, Sandra, I just didn't realize it at first. A few weeks ago, you came over here after pasta night –"

"When I was drunk, you mean? I don't remember it."

"You said you fancied me."

She could feel herself blushing. "I had a feeling I'd said something that night," she admitted with a laugh, "but since you didn't act any differently towards me, I thought I must be wrong."

"I was hoping that the secret admirer bit would bring it into the open."

"And I thought I had a stalker!"

"That worried me, that did, so I had to do something a little different." He chuckled. "I didn't expect you to ask _me_ to go with you to the play."

"You hid it very well; I didn't suspect anything yesterday when I asked you. Besides, I had my mind made up that it couldn't possibly be you."

"Cor blimey, Sandra, why would you think that?"

"I guess, well, I haven't had much success with relationships, have I?"

"And I have? I think we go together well."

"Yeah, with my record I would have been the person you cheated on your wives with," she laughed.

"No, you wouldn't," he said seriously, "because those women were just for fun. A little on the side, y'know? You're different."

"I am?" she whispered.

"Not half! How can I show you that?"

"Kiss me again."

His hand went behind her head and tangled in her hair, slowly drawing her closer to him as he leaned back on the sofa. She nestled against him, one hand on his chest, and he tenderly kissed her, exploring her lips before deepening the kiss.

When they parted, she smiled. "That was a good start, Gerry. But don't stop while you're on a roll."


End file.
